Something Borrowed
by Eryn Goldbergg
Summary: Just being Samantha Aria Puckett is the hardest thing anyone could ask Sam to do. Sam/Freddie pairing, slight Sam-centric.


**I'm baaack! Don't worry, a new chapter of Friends? is soon to come!**

Just being Samantha Aria Puckett is the hardest thing anyone could ever ask me to do.

And even though that name is printed on my birth certificate and I happen to have the same dead beat dad and drunken mother as she does, we are most definitely two different people. I'm pretty sure I could be every other version of me _but _her. The lists are endless. I've been "Hungry Sam"(the Sam that demolishes everything edible in sight—by far the role I've played the most), "Crazy Sam"(the Sam that gets high off the funny gas in the dentists' office—I've been meaning to talk to those nubs about that—drugging kids is NOT okay), "Violent Sam"(one of my most played roles—the Sam that punches people in the cornea and then swings at them with tube socks filled with butter), "Sam in Love"(the Sam that was in love with Freddie, that guy she slept with in apartment 305, and for a while, herself), and "Could Care Less Sam"(the Sam that slept around with guys, drank until she felt faint, and smoked for hours on end).

The last was the Sam I was currently being. But, I can assure you, I have _never _played "Samantha Aria Puckett"(the Sam who, well…is Sam). And when Carly instructed me that at her wedding, being the maid of honor and all, I was not allowed to drink too much, smoke, hit people, eat everything in sight, or sleep with ANY of the guests or groomsmen otherwise I wouldn't _be _the maid of honor, let's just say all hell broke loose. I completely freaked. But I had a perfectly valid reason, look:

Think of it as acting.

Say you've been playing these roles since you were old enough to gnaw on chicken legs, right(by the way, that is age 2)? And someone just comes in and takes away every single significant thing about your characters that you were absolutely SURE that you would need to make this character, well, real. And then they walk off, throwing you the line, "Just be yourself." We would all say the same thing to their receding backs:

W. T. F?

Now do you see what I mean? So, I'm supposed to dig deep down into my soul and pull out the freaking "essence of myself" and bring it out onto the outside, showing everyone who I truly am?

Hells no. What do I look like, some crack head Hannah Montana?

This is stuff freaking monks do. And it takes them _years. _

But, no, because of "special circumstances", I must do this before me and Carly's meeting at Coffee Bean & Tea Leaf, to which she is bringing Freddie, her fiancée, and a chainsaw(to hack up my dignity, of course).

I'd rather stay home and throw hot coffee on myself. Repeatedly.

I decided not to go.

* * *

So…

I had to go. Carly showed up at my apartment 5 minutes before our meeting and sweetly reminded me(notice that sweetly should be read with a sarcastic tone) that I was supposed to wear something nice. And, being the best friend that I am—I did.

I took a few moments before we ordered our coffee to survey everyone at the table. Here's pretty much what I gathered from glances:

Sam(me):

1. off the shoulder Beatles vintage tee(not one of those fake ones you get at department stores, but the kind that you find on the floor of your mom's closet)

2. ripped-to-shreds dark wash zipper pocket denim shorts(ripped by yours truly with a razor blade and a sander)

3. brown slouchy scuffed leather boots that looked like Mr. T "pitied the fool" all over them

4. bright orange-cerulean original wayfarers(once again, stolen from my mom's closet—they were in a box along with the cigarettes she didn't THINK I'd find and smoke)

5. "bracelets"(use the term loosely-they're really just torn leather braided into colored dental floss)

6. fake tortoiseshell hair claw(used to clamp my hair into some sort of style so it doesn't look like I threw on clothes without taking a shower—which I did)

7. my freaking oarsum "Brain Ninja" panties(hellz YEAH)

8. sarcastic expression #12(used specifically for special occasions and Freddie's arrival)

Carly(Miss Congeniality):

1. fuchsia halter dress(uhm…no comment)

2. white cashmere cardigan(really, Grandma?)

3. D&G silver pleated metallic leather flats(I own the same pair…pause for shocked silence at the fact that I own something the same as Carly does)

4. white clutch in an unidentified pelt of some harmless animal(it looks and smells like a sheep…Carly has confirmed that it is sheep)

5. coral floral silk scarf(used to tie Carly's hair in a kindergarten high ponytail, complete with a bow—and pause for puke)

6. sparkling diamond engagement ring(it's huge—forget the marriage, I was cashing in that bad boy)

7. IDK, probably high waisted flowered granny underwears(don't forget the no-leakage crotch!)

8. annoying smile #1(used ALL the time, nowadays)

9. annoying fiancée, Chris Simpson

Freddie(Carly's other best friend that I just happen to know and get sick pleasure out of annoying):

1. dark wash skinny jeans(there's so many great insult about this one, I think I'll save them to say out loud)

2. pink stripe cotton dress shirt(see above in parentheses)

3. black aviators(wooow…indoors, Freduardo? Only I can pull that off. Nice try though, dipstick)

4. pointed leather loafers(okay, WHO do you work for?)

5. pitiful leather man purse(oh boy. I'm definitely going to save this one to say to Freddie's face)

6. Ha. I bet tighty-whiteys—just 'cause he's so up-tighty and whitey.

7. FAKE smile #15(reserved for use with Carly's fiancée, Chris)

After yet another freaking annoying awkward silence, Carly's smile finally switched off and she decided to say something after dragging us here for no apparent reason.

"So, you all know why I called you here, right?" Carly asked, beaming at us like we were hackin' three year olds.

"No." Freddie said in his deepened version of a nerd voice, rolling his eyes. "I have a meeting in five minutes, so we should probably hurry this up."

"A meeting with who, the Man Purse Association of America, you gaywad?" I snapped, leveling him with a dubious stare. To be honest, I personally have nothing against gays, but I happen to know that Freddie's mom is a serious homophobic and has passed this gene on to Freddie. Just the thought of someone calling Freddie gay probably makes him dump a load in his tighty-whiteys.

"It's a messenger bag, Sam. Anyone intelligent—like Carly—would know that," He stared back at me with the ferocity of a month-old kitty. As usual, we began to argue.

Poor Chris. He was just sitting there wearing his poser fedora and paisley tie, waiting to meet Carly's _real _friends. Little did he know, Super-Nerd and the Hungry-Hungry Hippo _were _Carly's friends.

I gave him five seconds to leave before I started intimidating him.

"So, Chris, is it?" I said, reluctantly releasing Freddie from the chokehold I had him in due to Carly's distressed look.

"Uh….yep." Chris said, seemingly illiterate. Well, I guess seeing a 5 foot 2 twenty three year old woman wrestling a 6 foot 1 twenty five year old man into a chokehold doesn't exactly bring out the talkative side in a person. He and Freddie might have both dumped a load of crap into their undergarments.

"Don't be scared, Chris," I mocked, getting in his face. His breath smelled like hot dog bun. I never knew my friend could stoop so low. From the moment I saw the guy, I had a feeling it was his idea to threaten to take away my spot as maid of honor if I didn't "clean up my act". And it pissed me off that this doorknob was the reason I had been busting my freaking buns to try and "bring out my inner essence". Something snapped.

"She's not usually this hostile," Carly tried to explain.

"Oh, I am, Chris," I grinned. "I am usually this hostile. And you're going to see a lot more of it during the wedding."

That's right, Chrissy, go ahead and crap yourself again.

Samantha Aria Puckett _will _be at the wedding. And she _will _be herself.

Herself just won't be what everyone was expecting.


End file.
